


Ride 'em, Cowboy

by Psyche or like scope (Daiya_Darko)



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: M/M, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 08:57:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daiya_Darko/pseuds/Psyche%20or%20like%20scope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Jensen really has to ask himself if the pay grade for that year is really worth it, especially when it involves having to grease up and strip down in the name of intel.</p><p>But for God and Country, he will climb that pole with nothing but his thighs and the will of a man who's got nothing left to lose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ride 'em, Cowboy

**Author's Note:**

> I literally could not stop listening to "Pony" for like two days, so I had to focus it onto something. I blame Magic Mike 110%.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy 90s R&B.

Jensen pouted as the last strip of wax was applied to his inner thigh and bit his lip to resist crying out as Cougar ripped it off. He hated this mission already and he hadn’t even had to punch someone yet.

It was supposed to be simple: there was a drug ring being run by some very dangerous men with intent to put their money towards funding a war, and the strip clubs were being used as a cover. In order to get the necessary proof of what was happening, they’d need an inside source, and of all of them…

“Did you just call me a ‘twink’?” Jensen yelled exasperatedly at Roque, who fell over in a fit of laughter. “I’ll have you know I’m very manly, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever you say, Pony Boy,” Roque laughed as he snapped a thong at Jensen’s head. Jensen snatched it out the air and frowned.

“You guys suck. Colonel, are you certain there’s no other way we could do this? Why not send in Pooch or Cougar?”

“Because the Pooch only strips for one person and she won’t be there,” Pooch explained with a smirk. “And secondly, do you think a sniper would feel comfortable putting himself out in the open and exposed like that?”

“Do you think a tech would?”

“You hack computers in your underwear, sometimes less,” Clay sighed and gave Jensen a good-natured smile. “End of discussion, sergeant. Get your ass in a tanning booth and hit the poles.”

Jensen rubbed at the sensitive yet smooth skin between his legs and glared at his team mates. “Assholes. Just for this, you have to pay extra for a lap dance.”

“No one would want a lap dance from your pale ass anyways,” Roque chuckled before walking out, the others save for Jensen following close behind.

“I’m gonna shove my pale ass right in your face!” Jensen called after them, then fell back on his bed and closed his eyes.

This was going to be life before the Army all over again.

* * *

 

As they waited for nightfall, the Losers got into position. It had been three months, plenty of time for Jensen to build up a reputation and some trust within the club to get access to the computers, and tonight was supposed to be extraction. Only, Clay decided to make this extraction special.

“Who feels like hitting the club?” He declared as he tossed each man a wad of cash. Each contained a hundred dollars: enough for tips, drinks, and a lap dance.

“Are you kidding me, Clay?” Roque shot him an incredulous glance from his reclined position.

“We’re not seriously going to go in there, watch him, then just pick him up off the stage and leave!”

“Of course not,” Clay shook his head. “Pooch will have the van behind the building and we’ll simply wait until after his performance to leave. One of us will ask for a private room with Jensen, he’ll meet us, and then we get the hell out of there before we begin questioning our sexualities.”

“I don’t have to worry about questioning mine,” Roque grunted as he sharpened a knife. “I know exactly what I want.”

“Yeah, I guess we’re just not going to talk about Antigua then.”

“We’re not,” Roque fired back, glaring a warning at Clay not to say anything else.

And so night came, and Clay, Roque, and Cougar entered the club like three friends out for a good time. Granted, they received a few strange looks from the bouncers, military trained to recognize military, there was otherwise no real issue. A few people noticed Cougar, whistled at him, unaware that he wasn’t a stripper. He tipped his hat lower and chewed on his lip until Clay rested a hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile.

“You know why I didn’t choose you, right?” Clay said into Cougar’s ear. The sniper shook his head, but before he could get a real answer, a voice came from over the speakers, “Now time for a new favorite, the golden boy, Adonis!”

They took their seats at the stage and waited for the dancer to come out. The lights went out, and soft music began playing, a large muscular figure standing just in the shadows in sweat pants, a tank top, and sneakers.

Roque was about to comment on the man’s choice of clothing until he realized what he was listening to and the man stepped into the light.

All three of their jaws fell at the sight of Jensen, glistening in the spot lights like a golden statue in the sun.

He rocked his hips back and forth, snapping his fingers to the beat of song (“Pony” by Ginuwine, just to get at Roque for that pony boy comment), then gripped the pole in front of him and dropped to the ground, his ass just barely missing the stage. He climbed up the pole using only his arms, then wrapped his legs around and with no hands, grinded against the pole, swinging to the front and bending backwards.

Cougar swallowed when he met Jensen’s gaze, and felt his body heat up at the wink he gave.

Jensen flipped backwards off the pole, removing his shirt as he went, and dipped and slid down the stage to where his friends sat, watching with barely restrained looks of shock.

“Gentlemen,” he said quietly as he slipped out of his pants and dropped to his knees and spun, making sure his ass was directly in front of Roque’s face before twerking and rolling his hips against the stage. He could almost feel the daggers piercing the back of his head as he walked back to the pole and mounted it once more, grinding and popping in a lascivious manner. Next, Jensen danced across the stage, crouching for tips to be slipped into his thong. He made his way over to Cougar and grinned as his friend’s hand shakily slipped a ten into the back, and Jensen grabbed him, pressing a kiss to the back of his knuckles before striding off to the next person.

Cougar was only just aware of the concerned looks Clay and Roque were throwing him, and he quickly shrugged them off. It was Jensen; what else did they expect?

On the stage, Jensen was now holding himself upside down on the pole, legs spread and ass bouncing to the beat as dollar bills littered the stage in a flurry. In spite of themselves, Clay and Roque had to admit the man had shown some serious skills, and they joined the other patrons in cheering him on. Cougar couldn’t help but smile; it was just like Jensen to embrace an undercover mission to the point that he almost seemed to belong.

As the music faded out, Jensen bowed, sweaty and excited, and left the stage as a prop manager came out and swept up his earnings.

“Now, who’s gonna ask for a special dance?” Clay leaned over and asked his men. Roque glared and shoved the rest of his cash into his pocket as an answer.

“Alright, since Roque doesn’t understand what it means to take one for the team, Cougar?”

Cougar knocked back the rest of his beer and nodded, taking the rest of Clay’s money and finding the club manager. After convincing the shady looking Venezuelan that no, he was not looking for a job and no, he wasn’t interested in the slightest, Cougar finally paid the man, feigning a smile as he was offered half-off and a business card.

Cougar waited for Jensen to appear, and when he did, less sweaty and slightly more clothed, he smiled.

“Did I do a good job out there?” Jensen asked as they walked down the hallway of private rooms.

“Si,” Cougar agreed, bumping into Jensen’s shoulder when he stopped at a room. He was lost; they were supposed to be leaving already.

Jensen seemed to understand his confusion and said simply, “You paid for a private dance, and a private dance you shall get.”

Cougar nodded, visibly nervous, and Jensen squeezed his arm. “I promise I don’t bite; you didn’t pay enough for that.”

Cougar gave a quiet laugh and entered the small room, finding the lone cushioned couch and taking his seat.

Jensen pressed play on a small speaker system and grinned at Cougar, who immediately recognized the music. It was a popular Claudia Leitte song featuring Ricky Martin.

“I know you’re not Brazilian, but I figure you could appreciate the effort anyways,” Jensen said as he danced his way over to where Cougar sat.

Cougar watched in amazement as Jensen moved his body like a professional dancer, not a stripper, and sambaed, rolling and shaking his hips to the music. He gently pushed Cougar back against the couch and straddled him, grinding his hips down against Cougar’s lap, giving him a reassuring smile.

“Relax, Cougar,” Jensen murmured into his ear, then to Cougar’s surprise, placed his hands on Jensen’s thighs. “You can touch if it’ll make you feel better.”

But it didn’t really make him feel better. If anything, it made his pants even more uncomfortable and shortened his breath even further. Experimentally, Cougar ran his hands up Jensen’s thighs and rested them where the tight jean shorts stopped just a little above his ass, feeling the muscles there twitch and flex with the music.

“Christo da me fuerza,” Cougar whispered, leaning forward and pressing a kiss in between Jensen’s pecs.

Almost instantly, both of the men forgot where they were as Jensen lifted Cougar’s head for a kiss and groaned almost pornographically, his erection digging into Cougar’s belly. It took all of Cougar’s strength not to just flip Jensen onto the couch and rut against him like some inexperienced teenager, but he thrust his hips upward, savoring the feel of Jensen’s ass grinding against him welcomingly.

They remained on the couch, grunting and moaning, writhing in sweat stained clothes and holding onto each other for dear life. Cougar bit Jensen’s clavicle roughly, scraping his teeth across the scented skin and moaned as his orgasm jerked out of him, and he clutched Jensen to his chest as it subsided. Jensen whined and rocked his hips against Cougar, seeking similar release until Cougar slid a hand between them and pulled Jensen’s cock out from the offending jeans and stroked him quickly to completion.

Collapsed against the couch, they caught their breaths as the music continued playing through other songs. It was only until after a curious beep from Cougar’s phone that they remembered they were still technically on a mission.

Cougar flipped open the device and smirked at the text Clay had sent him: _Getting your money’s worth?_

Cougar replied, _You gave me more than necessary._

When they were both relatively presentable, they snuck out the back door and directly into the back of the van where the others waited.

“I heard Ginuwine from all the way out here,” Pooch began as soon as Jensen was in the van. “Please tell me you didn’t dance to what I think you danced to.”

“If you’re horny, let’s do it,” Jensen sang in confirmation.

Pooch laughed and finished, “Ride it, my pony!”

“If the two of you don’t shut the fuck up, I will carve out your throats,” Roque threatened, but it was too late, Jensen climbed past him and shoved a CD into the disc player. Ginuwine blasted through the speakers, and Roque looked murderous, but Jensen didn’t really care; Roque always looked murderous.

“You were way too good at that,” Roque said, reaching over to turn down the music. “Where’d you learn to dance?”

“A magician never reveals their secrets, Roque.”

“If what I saw tonight was magic, I’d hate to see you give a real performance,” Clay grunted. “You’ve been trained, and I don’t mean just pole dancing classes, Jensen.”

Jensen blushed and ran a hand through his hair. “When my sister got pregnant in high school, I was already done, but just working your standard dead end job for extra cash. Our parents were neglectful when they weren’t abusive, and so I just kind of took her in so that she and the baby would be safe. But my job wasn’t paying nearly enough for me to support her and a baby, plus my electric bill. I started dancing, the place I worked at paying for my lessons, and I did that until I realized the military wouldn’t require me to grease a pole with my ball sweat for a living.”

The van went quiet with the realization that Jensen’s talents were only brought upon by dire situations. No one knew what to say until Cougar offered quietly, “You still dance like it was just yesterday.”

Jensen shrugged and smiled. “Muscle memory.”

“Yeah, well this is definitely a memory I’m never going to forget,” Pooch sighed from the driver’s seat, and Jensen relaxed into the back of his seat. He glanced over at Clay, who gave him an approving nod.

“At ease, soldier. You did a great job, and I don’t just mean dancing tonight.”

“Yeah, well, don’t expect it to happen again unless I’m getting as good of a pay cut.”

“Speaking of which, how much did you make while you were there?” Roque asked.

“Well, I was dancing as a headliner every night, and each night I made between three to five hundred dollars, so about…” Jensen quickly calculate the math in his head and declared, “I’m ballparking here, but including tonight’s three hundred, about $18,000.”

Pooch almost hit the brakes and swerved to the side of the road in shock. “Are you kidding me? In just three months?”

“Look, I was no rookie. I was able to audition, get a headlining spot right away, and there’s a reason why I’m called “Adonis.” Jensen said indignantly. “I make bank.”

“I guess so,” Roque said in exasperation.

Jensen turned to look behind Clay’s seat and wink at Cougar, who snorted and hid himself under his hat.

“Oh yeah, speaking of that,” Clay began, looking between Jensen and Cougar, “Cougs, you seemed particularly impressed by Jensen tonight.”

“Say another word, Clay,” was all Cougar growled, but everyone just laughed. He jumped when Jensen reached an arm back and squeezed his knee.

“Hey, next one’s on the house,” Jensen said quietly.

“Jensen, please, I don’t want to remember any of this,” Roque groaned. “Don’t bring that shit with us.”

“Hey, can’t escape your past, bro!” Jensen argued, still smiling at Cougar.

Cougar smiled back hesitantly and relaxed into his seat.


End file.
